Swan Songs And Predestination
by Swirlums
Summary: A Swan Queen AU in which Emma is a famous singer/songwriter and Regina is, well, the mayor of Storybrooke. They meet just after Henry is born, neither of them knowing they've met the mother of their child. The story unfolds from there.
1. Goodbye And Hello To Henry

Ok, so...here we go. I am a pretty terrible writer with very little patience, but this is a story I wanted to read. You know how it goes. Ugh. I take responsibility for any mistakes, inconsistencies and any ridiculous liberties I may have taken with Emma and Regina.

I have no idea what my update schedule will be. I have three "chapters" written, and will try to have one up each week at least. For now, though, you get the ones I have written so far.

Welcome to my lame story, and try not to judge me too much. ;)

* * *

"I don't know if I can do this..."

A young blonde woman sat nursing a newborn. A son. Her son.

But, not.

Her fingers were wrapped around his as he grunted and rooted around for her breast. She pulled the baby tight against her breaking heart as though he were a band aid.

"You don't have to...you can still back out. You can still keep him." Whispered the kind-eyed social worker, running her hand gently over the baby boy's slightly conical head, and then brushing the the blonde woman's flushed, tear dampened cheek. "You can still change your mind, Emma."

But, she couldn't. This beautiful little boy deserved so much more. So much more than Emma could possibly give him. She wanted him to have everything he could ever need or want. She wanted the impossible for him. Complete happiness. All of the things she had never had.

As these thoughts crashed around, threatening to destroy her mind, the baby pulled away from his meal, locked eyes with Emma and regarded her in the politely sceptical way that only a newborn could. Emma couldn't take her eyes off him. He was so like her...his eyes, his chin, his scepticism.

"Call his mother."

"Are you sure?"

Emma placed a kiss on a fragrant forehead and handed the baby into hesitant arms.

"I'm sure. Take him. Please." Emma was moments away from a breakdown and didn't want to crack until she was alone.

"OK." The social worker tucked the now crying newborn into the crook of one arm and ran her fingers through Emma's hair. "Things will be OK, Emma. You'll see."

Emma shook her head, disbelief written all over her face.

"Just take him."

All business now, the social worker turned and left the room. Emma watched the baby's shock of dark hair bob further away from her with every careful step the the woman made. His cries echoed down the hall.

"Goodbye kid." She whispered before she allowed herself to split wide open.

* * *

Regina Mills navigated the hospital corridors of Boston General Hospital, her excited and flustered state making the task difficult. She'd been instructed to meet the social worker in a room on the maternity floor, but she was hopelessly lost despite all the signage meant to direct her to where she needed to be.

She had resorted to peeking into rooms here and there. A geriatric man watching television. A middle aged woman sipping from a pink, plastic cup. A young blonde woman with her face buried in her hands. Something in the woman's defeated posture made Regina hesitate in that particular doorway.

"Are you all right? Do I need to call someone for for you?"

The woman gasped and looked up at Regina, shocked. Red rimmed green eyes met with Regina's chocolate ones, and Regina's body, on autopilot, was drawn further into the room.

"No. No thank you." replied the young woman, who seemed unable to pull her eyes away from Regina's. "I'll be OK. I've just got a few things to work through."

Without thinking, Regina sat beside the woman on the bed, poured her a glass of water and handed it to her, cupping long, lanky hands within her smaller ones. The young woman gaped at her, and Regina's fingers reflexively tightened.

"I know things will turn out for you. Everything always comes out right. You'll see. There is so much more in store for you than you think." The words came out in an almost whisper, and Regina cleared her throat, wondering where her complete certainty in this woman's fate was coming from. Green eyes burned into hers, and Regina felt herself falling into them, wanting to know more about what was behind them. "I- I have to go. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"I'm sure. Thank you." The young woman extricated her hands from Regina's and turned away. Regina stood up, reluctant to leave, and backed out of the room slowly, not understanding how such a large part of her could want to stay with this girl when her reason to be at the hospital was so important.

She turned on her heel after one last look into the room, and clicked her way down the hallway with a new found intent before her heart dropped several beats.

Room 502. This was it. Straightening her skirt and smoothing her hands over her blouse, Regina paused at the cusp of the most important moment of her life and then, swallowing, knocked on the door.

"Come on in." greeted a smiling voice, and Regina somehow managed to turn the door handle and step into the bright room. "Hello! Did you find us all right?"

But, Regina was spellbound by a downy, dark head and a perfect little sleeping face.

"That's..."

"Regina Mills, meet your son." grinned the social worker, carefully transferring the baby into Regina's arms.

The baby opened his eyes, and Regina was shocked to find that they were greenish hazel instead of the usual blue. And so very intelligent and inquisitive.

"Hello, Henry." she said reverently, kissing his tiny lips and wondering how she'd seen his eyes before when she'd only just met him. "My little prince."


	2. Face Music And The Passage Of Time

10 years later:

Regina Mills was impatient, tapping out a staccato rhythm on her cellphone's screen. Her friend Kathryn had invited her to a concert in Boston, and she'd been instructed to wait outside the venue for her friend, but as the time printed on the ticket she clutched in her hand neared, there was no sign of Kathryn. No phone call, no nothing.

A young man dressed in a very metrosexual manner side-eyed her and Regina tried not to sneer back at him, moving away from the throngs of people. Thumbing though her contacts, she settled on Kathryn's name and dialed her number. Again.

Nothing. And, she could see that the group of people waiting outside  
the doors were starting to funnel themselves inside. Regina studied her ticket again. Emma Swan: Swan Song Tour. She sighed and dialled another number. It was answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Henry? How are you? Are you all right?"

The voice on the other end scoffed and Regina grinned to herself.

"Mom! I'm fine! Just have fun, for heaven's sake. Miss. Blanchard and I are playing Monopoly."

"All right. If Kathryn calls there for some reason, just tell her I have gone into the venue and to meet me at our seats. I have to turn my cell off now."

"Sure, mom. You are going to love Emma Swan. She's amazing. I wish I could have come. She's...well, you'll see."

Regina rolled her eyes. Music wasn't really her thing, and she'd never really heard much of the woman, aside from the occasional song on the radio.

"Next time, I'm bringing you. It turns out Kathryn is a pretty useless date." Henry laughed a laugh that told Regina he understood her perfectly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Mary Margaret to make sure to have you in bed by 8."

"Mom! She's my teacher. She knows it's a school night!"

Regina laughed and bid her son goodbye, shut off her phone and started moving toward the door with a very excited group of fans. Her stomach was fluttering for some unknown reason, and she felt a level of agitation usually reserved for stressful board meetings, but she decided to throw caution to the wind and do as her son had asked. Have fun. Enjoy Emma Swan...whoever she was.

* * *

"You ready for this, Emma?" David, Emma's stage manager, grinned. Emma gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. She could hear that the crowd tonight was crackling with energy, and she closed her eyes to absorb some of it.

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm always ready for you to go out there and give the best performance of your life, princess."

Emma stood up and wandered toward her piano, hoping to calm her nerves. The moment her fingers touched the keys, she was often transported out of herself and into some other realm. Not tonight.

"Hardy-har-har." Emma deadpanned, and then dropped her face onto the keys. "I'm nervous."

"I know, sweetheart. But, that's no reason to make face music."

God, David could be such a delightful asshole sometimes.

"Never mind the commentary!" Emma rolled her face a little on the keys as a bit of a distraction. "Help me."

"How aboooout...you are wonderful, and everyone out there is waiting with baited breath to brush against a little piece of your soul, just to absorb a little bit of who you are. Doesn't that feel kind of good?"

"Yeah. Except they don't know what they're getting into. Who am I?"

"Someone who doesn't have time for an existential crisis. You're on. Listen."

David gave Emma a tender kiss on the temple and trotted off to help the sound guys. The opening band bid the audience goodnight, and shortly after, Emma could hear people beginning to shout her name. As the opening band's backdrop began to lift, she pasted on a smile. By the time she came within view of her audience, it had reached her eyes.

* * *

Regina had had no idea what to expect from the experience she'd been thrust into by her wayward and still very absent friend, but she'd had to note that her seat was stellar (second row, centre) and the opening band, The Saviours, had been more than satisfactory. She'd clapped primly for them as they exited the stage and hoped they would have CD's for sale on the way out. Which was uncharacteristic of her, and she knew it. Regina rolled her eyes at herself. One partial concert and she was already hooked and trolling for merchandise. So easy.

Just as she was contemplating purchasing an MP3 player, ('What was that Henry was always talking about? Oh yes, an iSomething or other.') the lights dimmed and the crowd dimmed with them. Where there had been noise and excitement, there was now an almost perfect silence, save a few shuffled feet and discreet coughs.

The Saviour's backdrop lifted to reveal nothing but a blonde woman and a piano on a barely lit stage. Candles glowed along the piano's mantle, their soft light flickering against a smiling, serene face. Transfixed, Regina took a deep breath and held it, afraid to make a sound while the woman raised her fingers to touch the keys, but when she began singing, Regina exhaled on a strangled sob. "Time", by Tom Waits...but, Emma Swan sang it as though she had lived and breathed the song in a way that no one else ever could have. Not even Tom Waits, and certainly not Regina, who despite her usual dislike of music, had thought of this song as her personal anthem. Until now. It belonged to Emma Swan.

The music swirled around her, wrapped in a voice that was a combination of blush wine and what Regina imagined campfires in Fairyland would smell like. Everyone was so still, so quiet, and Regina was spellbound.

As the last perfect, haunting note echoed through the air, the blonde woman turned toward her audience and bestowed them with a self deprecating grin.

"Hi there. Are you all here for me?" She made a show of hooding her eyes with one hand and peering into the crowd. "Sure are a lot of you."

Everyone laughed. Even Regina managed a wet sounding chuckle despite the strange tugging feeling that came over her upon hearing Emma Swan's speaking voice. It was as though she had heard it before, but she couldn't place it.

"You probably know this is my final tour, and you're here to take pity on me, right?" More laughter, and several gasps of surprise. "I thought it fitting to begin and end this tour in my hometown, so hello Boston!" The crowd roared, and Regina whispered her own little hello under her breath. "I'll be here again in August so I don't have to say goodbye just yet, but thank you to each and every one of you for coming tonight. It means a lot to me. YOU all mean a lot to me. Can someone bring the audience lights up, please? I want to get a look at everyone." She got up and padded to the edge of the stage as the lights brightened, scanning the crowd, lingering on faces here and there, making small connections. And, then her eyes settled on Regina.

Fighting a confusing urge to shrink back, Regina instead smiled and tried not to appear flustered in spite of her hammering heart. The woman was still considering her, a half smile decorating her beautiful face. And god, was she beautiful. Her hair was a ripe wheat field rolling in delicious waves down her back. Her cheeks were red apples. Her smile-curved bottom lip was captured between her teeth. Her feet were bare. But, her eyes...

Regina closed her own eyes, and when she opened them, the music had begun again. Regina thought of her son, and how much he would have loved this. Of What Kathryn was missing. Of a strange almost-memory that was lingering in her periphery. Then, she thought of nothing but fingers caressing perfection from ivory and the clear, seraphic voice that went through her again and again.


	3. Frost Is To Faces

Note: The "song" below is my original work. It's not actually song, but a poem I wrote several years ago and fiddled with a bit to fit this fic. Poetry is more my thing, so maybe it makes up for this story a little bit. Or maybe not. Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

"David, I need you to do something for me, please?" Emma panted, swigging from a bottle of water.

"Name it, darling. And, by the way, you KILLED it out there!" The crowd had been on their feet before the final note had even finished echoing through the auditorium, calling for more.

"I need you to convince the woman in the center of the second row to come backstage. Dark hair, darker eyes...blue dress. Just...don't let her leave, ok?"

"Sure, but..." David began, but Emma was already back out on the stage. 3000 people silenced immediately, waiting as a collective.

"I am going to play something I have never played for anyone before. I wrote it when I was 18. I had...just given up something of incredible importance because I felt I had to, but then I was given hope by a complete stranger. I didn't think I deserved it, but am forever grateful nonetheless. This song...well, it's for what I both lost and found that day."

Relying on instinct, Emma's fingertips found the old notes with ease. She could feel them curling up around her from somewhere deep inside her younger self and she couldn't help but close her eyes against the vulnerability she was about to put on display.

A fingernail moon rises in reverse as  
a star spark ignites the horizon.  
Sun-dogs lap at dew frost, leaving  
delicate tongue prints on windows, and

face down in the waning dim  
I lap at slumber, dreaming of endless sidewalks.  
But, sidewalks are for strangers and  
will not lead me to you.

I am drawn to you, like  
frost is to faces; frost to frozen windows  
in the early dawn, and

you, a paradox-  
an 8 tipped on its side; fire flakes  
dancing with snow.  
A humbling parallax of radiance  
and shadow.

To find you, one must always  
walk the periphery of change; know  
that your migrations are limited  
only by imagination. To recognize  
you, one must never be  
of the same mind twice.

I am drawn to you, like  
frost is to faces; frost to frozen windows  
in this early dawn, and

when morning  
births an afternoon,  
baffling dreams will slide  
from my dilated mind-  
become exquisite  
memories of something yet  
to happen.

The end of the song was greeted by a hush so complete, Emma cracked open an eye to check if there was still anyone out there in the darkened auditorium. She needn't have worried, though. People were rising to their feet like ripples, and then waves, and then the sound reached her...a cacophony of applause, yells, tears and "I love you's".

"I love you, too." Emma smiled through her own tears. "See you on the flip-side." And with that, she winked in the general direction of second row center and hurried off the stage to prepare for the conversation that would, with any luck, take place soon.

* * *

Regina's legs were not functioning correctly. At all. She'd made a good attempt at standing up when the rest of the crowd had begun filing out of their seats, but her knees had felt like like wet cotton balls. Which was ok, given that her breath had been stolen and her eyes had done a very suspicious hallucination-type thing in which she'd seen, or thought she'd seen, Emma Swan wink at her. She was in no shape to be going anywhere just yet.

She had just dropped her head into her hands and begun massaging her temples in the hopes of regaining some brain function when a boyish, blonde man with a kind face found her.

"Hello there, ma'am. Are you all right?" He inquired gently, touching her shoulder.

Ma'am? Regina arranged her face into an expression she hoped was displeasure, but probably looked more like misty bewilderment. Oh well.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just...I'll be going in a moment."

"Actually, about that..." he grinned, "do you have anywhere you need to be in the next little while? I have a favour to ask of you."

A favour? This was getting worse and worse. Regina could feel her senses coming back to her on a rush of irritation.

"What makes you think you have any...?" Regina began, but the man raised his hands in supplication and cut her off, seeming to realize what was coming.

"My name is David. I am Emma Swan's stage manager. She asked me if I could convince you to come backstage for a little while. It seems she wants to speak with you. So...do you think you would like to do that?" He finished, an embarrassed blush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. Regina sighed and took pity on him.

"My name is Regina Mills. I don't believe that I know Emma Swan. In fact, I'd barely even heard of her music before tonight. Why would she want to see me?"

"I don't know, but she seemed to know you. Would you care to join me? She is probably in her dressing room right now, but will be getting on her bus to head for the next venue shortly."

Making a quick decision, Regina stood up on legs that now felt more solid.

"Lead the way."

She followed David through the auditorium, and then through several doors until they came to an unmarked one in the heart of the building. Her curiosity was more than piqued. What could Emma Swan possibly want with her, and why did Regina feel like there was endless magic behind the plain, unassuming door.

"Wait here for a second, please." David said, knocking politely on the door and then opening it. "I'll just let her know you're here."

There were muffled voices inside, both David's and another familiar (but unfamiliar) and then Regina's eyebrows shot into her hairline when Emma Swan herself opened the door and ushered Regina inside, a rueful smile on her face.

"I hope you don't mind being here." Emma laughed. "David says you were sitting out there looking like a, and I quote, 'pissed off kitten' when he found you."

David had the grace to look ashamed, and Regina couldn't stop the delighted laughter that bubbled out of her.

"I knew he didn't buy it. And, no, I don't mind at all...Miss. Swan."

Regina extended her hand to the blonde, and it was taken and enveloped in a familiar warmth so startling she had to bite back a gasp. Emma let go of her hand as quickly as she had taken it and gestured toward two clothing covered chairs, eyes asking Regina to sit. Regina sat, grateful for the invitation because it seemed the cotton balls had returned to her knees.

"And, can I ask...what's your name?" Emma asked, plopping into the seat beside Regina's, folding her legs under herself like a child. "I didn't ask when I had the chance and have always wished I had."

"My name is Regina. Regina Mills. But, I have to ask. Do you...know me?"

The blonde woman tucked her chin into her palm and blew out a careful breath, and it was obvious to Regina that she was trying to figure out where to start. It was in that moment that Regina remembered. A defeated girl in a hospital bed, warm hands, green eyes, and a tugging in her belly that told her she needed to stay exactly where she was despite having to leave.

"Oh my gosh. That was you? That day in the hospital?" And, Regina was unsure of how her hand had found it's way onto the jeans-clad knee adjacent to hers, fingers stroking the buttery fabric, but she left it there.

"That was me, yes. I wanted...I wanted to thank you. For what you said. It made more of a difference than you could ever know."

At which point David decided he didn't need to be in the room anymore and made his exit.


	4. Black Holes And Revelations

"So, what do you do, Regina? I already know you wander hospital hallways and attend concerts alone. I had all these scenarios made up. Thought I might have imagined you, to be honest. Or, that maybe you were a nun bent on cheering up the whole hospital."

Regina popped an eyebrow and looked pointedly down at her dress and stilettos.

"Yeah. The whole nun thing went out the window when I saw you tonight. You've got legs all the way to hell, sister. Just saying."

The laughter that filled the dressing room was gorgeous and Emma wished she could mimic the exact sound of it on the piano. Melodious; baroque and bells.

"Actually, I am the mayor of a small town in Maine." Regina chuckled (fine sandpaper against mahogany), and Emma's fingers itched for her piano even more. "Not as exciting as you imagined, Miss. Swan?"

"Please, call me Emma. And, I've got to ask...how did the mayor of a small town in Maine end up alone at a concert in Boston? MY concert. I had almost given up hope that I'd ever see you again."

"I was stood up!"

Emma was astonished.

"Who the hell would stand YOU up?!" "My friend Kathryn would, it seems. She will be receiving an irate phone call when I get back to my hotel. I..." Emma could see that Regina was considering what to say next, and her body leaned closer to the flustered woman against her will. "I'm really glad I came alone, though. I have never experienced anything so freeing as your music, and I think Kathryn might have been amused by my reaction to you." Regina's face flushed. "My reaction to your music, rather." She amended, to Emma's chagrin.

Emma felt her own blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks. She had felt a pull toward Regina that day in the hospital, but it was nothing compared to the gravity tugging her toward her now. Emma was a photon swirling against the event horizon of a black hole, and she was very ok with that. She wanted to know anything and everything there was to know about the woman perched on a pile of sweaty, discarded clothing in front of her. She wanted to be absorbed...study the way Regina moved, laughed, blushed. The elegant way she used her hands while speaking. The feeling should have been frightening, but it felt comfortable and right instead. The two women regarded one another in silence for a moment, eyes locked. Then, Emma cleared her throat and asked the question she'd wanted to ask since their first meeting.

"What were you doing in the hospital that day? "Her voice was careful in case she was crossing a line. "Because I know you weren't only there to be my guardian angel, as much as I wanted to believe my guardian angel was a beautiful woman in fashionable yet serviceable shoes."

Regina considered the question, her eyes clouding over for a moment.

"I was...picking someone up."

Emma was intrigued, but didn't want to push. She could tell her question had unsettled the other woman, and had decided to continue with another line of questioning when Regina's eyes cleared, a small, involuntary smile gracing her lips.

"I was picking my son up, actually. His name is Henry. He'd never forgive me if I didn't at least mention him to you." Regina's eyes sparkled at the mere thought of her son (Regina has a son?) and Emma's heart rolled over in her chest for a reason she couldn't explain. "He was irritated that I didn't bring him to the concert tonight, as he adores you and your music."

"I would be honoured to meet him someday." Emma blurted, a thousand unasked questions flopping around in her mind.

"Oh, he'd love that. It's his birthday next month and he has asked for the typical preteen boy stuff, except he'd like a gift card to buy your latest album. He...he told me I'd love you, right before I walked into the venue tonight. He was right." Regina faltered, a blush rising into her cheeks. "What I mean is, you are certainly an experience, Emma Swan."

"Thank you. As are you. I felt a real...ummm..." Emma searched for the correct words for what Regina had given her in those few moments in the hospital, but was interrupted by a polite knocking at the door. She scrubbed her hand over her face, trying to wipe away the mild frustration before she got up and answered the knock, revealing David.

"Is it time to go already?" She knew her voice sounded whiny, but that couldn't be helped.

"Unfortunately, yes. Everything is loaded up. Just waiting on the talent." David winked, to which Emma rolled her eyes.

"All right. Can I just have another moment?" Emma glanced at Regina who had pulled a slip of paper from her purse and was scribbling on it. "I'll be right out. Just need to gather a few things."

"Ok. 5 minutes?"

"See you in 5."

Closing the door and slumping against it, Emma drew a breath from the very tips of her toes and then crossed the room toward the still scribbling brunette.

"Whatcha writing?" The delicate hand stopped writing and bottomless burnt whiskey eyes jumped up to meet green. "Oh. I...my cell number, e-mail, home address. For you. I would prefer for there not to be another 10 years between us." Regina bowed her head to finish writing, folded the slip of paper, and then stood to tuck the paper into Emma's outstretched hand. Emma's fingers wrapped around both the paper and Regina's hand, and she couldn't quite make herself let go.

"It was really...wonderful...seeing you again. Thank you for coming back here. I just..." Another knock at the door, this one more persistent.

"Ok-ok! I'm coming!" Emma huffed, but then squeaked as she felt herself being pulled into a very tight, very fragrant hug. As a general rule, Emma didn't do hugs, but she wasn't about to stop herself from clamping her arms around this woman as though everything depended on it.

And, maybe it did.

"I am so glad I was right." Came a raspy, amused voice...oh so deliciously close to her ear.

"Right about what?" Emma whispered into chocolate hair.

"You. That things would turn out for you. As broken as you seemed, you were still such a shining light. I just knew you were special." Emma shivered, her eyes welling with tears.

"Thank you. Really."

"I suppose I must go." Regina let go of Emma, regret painted all over her face. "Please, if you have time in your busy schedule, keep in touch."

Emma nodded, knowing that she would make time. Probably sooner than would be considered cool.

"Goodbye, Regina."

"Goodbye, Emma Swan."

Regina winked, and then stepped out the door.

* * *

Regina padded out of the hotel bathroom in a towel and bare feet. After the eventful evening she'd had, the shower had felt like heaven. Kind of like hugging Emma Swan and finding out that she really enjoyed the warm strength of the other woman's body, But, she wasn't going to go there. Not yet.

Instead, she donned a set of silky pajamas, slipped between the sheets of the luxurious hotel bed and pulled her laptop into her lap to distract herself. There were always e-mails to be checked and answered, forms to be filled out, budgets to be balanced. Settling against cloud-like pillows (and making a mental note to stay at this hotel again if only for the bed), she connected to the wifi and chuckled when she was promptly notified of new mail. She scanned the ones from earlier in the day first. The usual budget update requests, irate messages from townsfolk, an e-mail she'd missed from Kathryn explaining that she'd been called into an emergency meeting, which was immediately followed by a trip overseas to deal with an issue there. Regina was glad being the mayor of a small town was small potatoes compared to Kathryn's job...acting CEO of Midas Gold. She shot an encouraging e-mail back and mentioned that perhaps they could attend the second Boston concert together in a couple of months.

Just as she was about to pack it in for the night, her laptop chimed her e-mail notification again.

Swan, Emma  
12:47AM

Regina opened the e-mail the way Henry opened Lego at Christmas.

Dear Regina,

I know it's only been, what, 2 hours since we last spoke?I promised myself I would wait until tomorrow, play it at least a little cool, but here I am. I've never been cool, and you can't teach an old dog new tricks, or so I have heard. ;)

We are headed toward New York tonight. Show there tomorrow night, and then on to Washington. Touring is weird...a lot of hurry up and wait. I'm writing now because I'm in wait mode, and wired for sound.

I don't know if this question is too personal or not, but, you never mentioned why you were picking your son up at the hospital. Did something happen? Is he ok now? Anyway, I just wanted to check in and make sure you had my contact info as well. I should probably get some sleep as today is going to be a very busy day.

Thank you for being there tonight, and for the things you said. I appreciate it.

I have attached direct download links to my entire discography. Please wish your son an early happy birthday from me.

Yours,  
Emma Swan


	5. Yours, Mine, Ours

On the drive home the next afternoon, Regina could think of nothing but the e-mail she had received from Emma not long before she'd slipped into a fitful sleep full of extremely vivid dreams. Hair sliding along skin like honey, a warm cheek pressing against her own, lips just brushing her ear, words tickling her jaw.

Yours, Emma had written. Yours.

The whole evening had been surreal, but for some reason that one word had thrown her off balance more than any of the rest of what she would forever think of as the weirdest experience she'd ever had. And one of the most wonderful, if she was going to be honest.

"My Emma Swan." She tried out loud as she pulled into her driveway, and then shook her head at herself.

"Mine", She whispered as she unlocked her front door and stepped into the house.

It had been so intimate. Almost too intimate, and Regina could not for the life of her understand why she felt so pulled toward the other woman. Why 'yours' had significance, like some kind of deep soul memory, almost forgotten but lingering just at the tip of the tongue.

"Henry?" She called, hanging up her keys and placing her shoes just so on the shoe rack. "Are you home?"

There was no answer, but Regina could detect the faint strains of piano. She followed the sound to the back of the house and found Henry bent over what Regina had thought was their unused baby grand piano, practiced fingers working over the keys. She stood in the doorway, mouth agape. Henry hadn't even approached the piano with her knowledge since he'd been about four years old, and yet, if she closed her eyes, Regina could imagine she was still sitting second row centre in Boston.

Henry's hands slowed, then stopped. The piano bench creaked as he turned around.

"Mom! How long have you been here?" He couldn't quite look Regina in the eye, and the back of his neck was flushed as it always was when he was embarrassed. "How was the concert?" He tried.

"The concert was wonderful. I just arrived. I called for you, but there was no answer, so I..." Regina trailed off, unsure of what to say. "You...you play beautifully."

"Good, and thanks." Henry said, still not meeting her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why haven't you ever shown me? Where did you even learn piano?" The questions kept flowing, and Regina knew her son was mortified, but she couldn't help it. How could she have been a mother for 10 years and not have known this about her son. Guilt settled in. Was she away too much? Did he not feel connected to her?

"I don't know. I've always been able to play. I go to the music room at school before or after classes and use the piano there, or I play when no one's home. It's...always felt like something private, only mine."

"I'm sorry, Henry. I didn't intend to intrude." Regina offered, her heart breaking. Intruding. On her own son. Her son who had secrets she didn't know.

"No, mom. It's ok." Henry's eyes finally met hers and her breath was stolen anew. The green eyes she'd been looking into since his infancy were full of determination and magic, suddenly wise beyond their years. All at once, she knew where she'd seen them before. "I'm glad you heard. I have wanted to share it with you, but it always felt like something, or someone, was missing."

"Wh-" Was all Regina managed before Henry stood up and crossed the room to give her a tight hug and a tiptoe kiss on the cheek.

"I've got homework. Miss. Blanchard is crazy, giving us homework this close to the end of the school year. I'll be in my room."

"Oh. Yes. I'll be in my office catching up on a few things until dinner. What would you like to eat?"

"Pizza, please." Henry grinned, looking like a 10 year old again instead of the alien man-child who had invaded his body.

"Takeout or homemade?"

"Homemade. You make the BEST pizza."

"Done. And, Henry?" Regina called to his retreating form.

"Mm?"

"...What was that you were playing?"

"Oh. It's...ummm...something I've been working on. I kinda wrote it."

Regina walked toward her son, held his flaming cheeks in her hands and pressed a lingering kiss on his forehead.

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Thanks, mom." He said, terribly embarrassed, but still smiling ear to glowing ear.

* * *

_Dear Emma, _

_Thank you for your e-mail. I apologize for not responding sooner, but I was exhausted last night and driving for a good portion of today. _

_There is no need to "play it cool" with me. In our two short interactions, I have seen you at both your worst and best, respectively. I do think that starts us out on different footing than most friendships._

_I had a very strange experience with Henry today. At this age, most parents are making embarrassing discoveries about their young boys that result in slipping boxes of Kleenex into their rooms. Instead, I discovered today that Henry is a closet piano prodigy. I returned home to find him playing a song of his own writing._ _It was so beautiful, Emma. In that moment, I felt as though I'd never known him, but that I knew him completely. It was...a strange sensation. How could I have missed such a thing, in all these years?_

_There isn't, and never has been, anything the matter with him. The child has a constitution an ox would be jealous of. I was meeting and picking him up that day. He is adopted, which brings me to a few questions of my own._

_What were you doing in the hospital that day? And, that song you sang...your encore last night...what was it about? Of course, you do not have to answer these questions. Your secrets are your own to keep, if you wish so._

_I hope you had a good rest and that your show this evening goes well. If it's anything like last night, well, the people of New York should only be so lucky. _ _Also, thank you for the downloads. I will forward them to Henry this evening. He will be thrilled._

Regina stopped typing, and bit her lip for a moment before she added her sign off.

_Yours,  
Regina Mills_

She hovered the cursor over the send button for a moment. If her suspicions were correct, the e-mail she'd receive in reply had the potential to change hers and Henry's lives forever. But, then she allowed her mind to wander to the evening prior, to the longing she'd heard in every single note Emma Swan bestowed upon her audience. She thought of Henry, pouring the same kind of longing into empty rooms for years and her decision was made.

She closed her eyes against the swooshing sound the e-mail made as it hurtled toward Emma Swan and hoped against all hope that everything would turn out fine. For all of their sakes.


	6. Letters

Part 6: Letters

3:54am,

Swan, Emma

Subject: Whoa!

_Dear Regina,_

_It's 3am. I'm in a fancy-schmancy hotel in Washington, holed up in the most comfortable bed imaginable, and I can't sleep. It's probably a combination of the show I played tonight (last night?) and having read your e-mail shortly after. I'm usually keyed up after a show, so there is nothing I can do about that, but something's been bothering me about what you said. I might be imagining things and putting things together that do not belong together, but Henry is adopted?_

_I am not sure how to even begin telling you how I ended up in the hospital that day. It's a long story, maybe for another day, but...it ended in me allowing a social worker to take my son away from me and into what I imagined would be a better life. _

_Colour me crazy, but...isn't that pretty significant? What if..._

_It was a closed adoption. At the time, I didn't think I would ever want to look for him. I was afraid that I'd find him and mess his life up. All I knew was that he would have a mother. The social worker told me she was well off, had a wonderful disposition, and had been unable to have a child of her own but dearly wanted to be a mother. That was enough for me. It was more than I could have given him._

_I was devastated. And then you showed up, and I was still devastated, except you gave me hope. In my darkest moments, you gave me an amount of hope I had never experienced in my, up until then, miserable life. That can't be an accident. When you left the room, I cried for real. I mean, I'd cried before then, but there was never any feeling of relief afterward._

_Bottom line is, I believed you. One look into your eyes showed me everything I'd been missing my whole life, and I vowed to never forget that there were wonderful things out there, too. Wonderful things that I might just be able to experience someday._

_I know how this sounds, and I'm sorry if I am making you uncomfortable. I'm a combination of overwhelmed, hopeful, elated and terrified, and I guess it shows. If what I suspect is true, how do we proceed?_

_Which brings me to Henry and his piano. Wow. _

_You are not a bad mother for not knowing he could play. Especially not if he wasn't ready to show you that part of himself. Some people play the piano for the sake of it, and some people play because their soul aches if they don't. I imagine that Henry falls into the second category. _

_When I play, it's not just something I can do. It's an extension of myself. Intimate. When I play for others, I am telling them all of my secrets in great detail. Maybe Henry wasn't ready to reveal his secrets just yet, but that doesn't mean you weren't listening for them anyway. _

_Does that make any sense?_

_I should probably get some sleep. I am flying into Atlanta later today for a show, and then getting on the bus tonight to head for Miami. Part of me is really glad this is my last tour, and part of me will miss it. Mostly, I am just looking forward to landing somewhere quiet and staying there until I am old and (hopefully not) toothless. _

_Yours,_

_Emma, (who is very glad you don't expect "coolness", because I could never meet your expectations in a million years)_

Emma was settled in (with a pile of pillows and a beer) on her bus, hurtling through the night toward Miami when she finally allowed herself to check her inbox for a message from Regina.

She'd found herself hovering her finger over the mail icon on her phone many times throughout the day, her stomach fluttering from a mixture of excitement and terror. She had denied herself each time, resolving over and over again that an e-mail from Regina deserved her complete focus. Especially now. Now that there was a high probability that Henry was more than just Regina's son. He could be Emma's, too.

Mind reeling at the thought, Emma brushed her finger over the no longer neglected mail icon and smiled when her eyes zeroed in on an e-mail from Regina right away. Without a glance at anything else in her inbox, she opened Regina's message, unconscious of the fact that she had pulled one of her pillows against herself in a fierce hug.

9:12am

Mills, Regina

Subject: Re: Whoa!

_Dearest Emma,_

_You are long past the point of ever being able to make me feel uncomfortable. Which is strange because we've really just met and exchanged a few e-mails, but...please don't worry about offending or upsetting me by sharing your thoughts and feelings. Everything about all of this just feels right, and if I am to be completely honest, this dynamic between us began in that hospital room. Didn't it?_

_I will admit to being a bit uncomfortable when I attended your show, but it was because you slipped right through my skin and curled yourself around my insides. My expectations for the evening had been pleasant company and decent music, not the startling feeling that my heart was being cradled in soft, warm hands. I have since come to terms with the sensation. ;)_

_Thank you for saying what you said about Henry. He plays when I am home now, always while I am preparing dinner, and I don't disturb him. This arrangement seems to be working well for us. _

_Speaking of Henry, I abused my "mayoral powers" and attempted to look into the adoption, but came up empty handed. I used to be terrified that Henry's birth mother would look for him and somehow insinuate herself into our lives. _

_It never occurred to me that I would be the one to find her. Twice._

_He has your eyes, you know. _

_I think you and I both know this goes beyond paperwork. As for how to proceed, I will leave it up to you whether we tell Henry. I know this must be very difficult for you, but it is surprisingly easy for me. I have heard his longing, grown familiar with his confusion, though he has never said a word about any of it. He's never asked anything about his birth parents, but it leaks out of his fingers. I have also heard your longing, and it is the same. _

_How could I not want to end that for both of you?_

_Please take care, Emma. _

_By the way: Storybrooke, Maine is a beautiful little town. Picturesque, quiet, full of quaint, but interesting residents. We also boast several excellent dentists and denturists. Our residents do not tend to remain toothless for long._

_I'm just putting that out there._

_Yours,_

_Regina _

Emma crammed her face into the pillow she was, by now, almost strangling in an effort to muffle the intense blast of feelings swirling though her.

Regina was right. Emma knew deep down, that Henry was hers. She even wondered if some small part of her had known that day in the hospital that Regina was the woman destined to raise her son. Maybe that was the reason she'd found the strength to better her life.

To be deserving of the two most incredible, precious people she'd ever met.

Because, Emma wasn't going to deny it. Regina was precious to her, and had been for a very long time. The incredible thing was the realization that Emma might be precious to Regina, too.

A heart cradled in soft, warm hands indeed. Which was only fair, given that Regina had been cradling Emma's heart for 10 years now.

Emma pulled her flushed face from her pillow, intending to read Regina's e-mail again, when she noticed, for the first time, a message from an unfamiliar address just above it.

"Huh..."

4:04pm

truestbeliever

Subject: Re: Fw: Hey

_Are you really Emma Swan?_

_My mom forwarded an empty email to me, but it had an attachment full of downloads of Emma Swan's entire discography, and I thought "Sweet!". But, then I noticed the e-mail address of the person she had forwarded it to me from, and wondered if somehow you and my mom became friends. Stranger things have happened, I guess. When I asked her about it, she just smiled the smile that tells me I need to find out for myself. I don't like that smile. It always ends in me being embarrassed somehow. _

_Are you really her? If you're not, I'm sorry. It would just be so great if you were. I'd have so many things to ask you. Or her, depending on who you are. Maybe you're just some kind of PR person or something._

_If you really are Emma Swan, can you tell me what your song "Operation Peter Pan" is about? I'd never heard it before. _

_Anyway, thanks for the downloads, whoever you are. I can't stop listening._

_Henry Mills_


	7. Running Scared

1:36am

Swan, Emma

Subject: Re: Re: Fw: Hey

_Hi Henry,_

_I am glad you enjoyed the downloads. Your mom mentioned to me that you had requested my newest album for your birthday. Since I could make that wish come true, I did. I also thought you might like to have everything else, including all of my unreleased stuff. You're one of very few people to have copies of those tracks. Guard them well. Ha-ha._

_As you have probably figured out by now, being that you're a smart kid, this is really Emma Swan. Your mom and I met and became friends at the concert she attended in Boston. Let me tell you, kid. Stranger things DO happen. _

_"Operation Peter Pan" is about wishing one could bend or stop time in order to find that which seems impossible to find. But, it's mostly about hope. Maybe I will explain it better to you someday. Or, maybe you already know what I am talking about. _

_Can you do me a favour? Please let your mom know that I am sorry, but I will be falling off the grid for a little while. Things are about to get really busy, and I am not sure I will have a lot of time for correspondence. _

_Thanks, kid. _

_Emma Swan_

* * *

"Mom!"

Regina could hear Henry's bare feet racing down the hall, the soles of his feet squeaking a bit as he rounded the corner into her study. Chuckling for the first time that morning, she scanned her inbox once more before closing her laptop and turning her attention to a sleep tousled, pink cheeked Henry.

"You'll never guess in a million years, mom!"

"You have discovered a deep and unyielding love of mathematics?"

"No! I..."

"Let's see...hmmm...you've decided to join Pongo on his quest to pee on every fire hydrant in Storybrooke?"

"Mom. You're stretching. Not only has Pongo already peed on every fire hydrant AND light post in this town," Henry's face took on a diabolical gleam. "What makes you think I haven't?"

"Henry Mills!" Regina exclaimed, pretending to be scandalized.

"Jeez, mom. No. Listen. Remember that e-mail you sent me with Emma Swan's music?"

"Of course I do. I sent it the day before yesterday. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes. A lot. But, I e-mailed her."

"H-how..."

"You forgot to remove her address when you forwarded it to me. I didn't know for sure whether it was her at first, but after thinking about it for a little while, I just couldn't pass up the chance to talk to her."

Regina knew she shouldn't be surprised. Henry was a smart, intuitive kid. When she'd sent the e-mail to him, she had made sure to delete all traces of conversation, wanting Henry to have the music, but wanting the rest to follow at Emma's pace. She'd been concerned when there hadn't been a response from Emma waiting for her this morning, but now she was downright worried that she'd made a dire mistake in forgetting to delete Emma's e-mail address. Her son could be a bull in a china shop at times, and Regina wondered where he got that trait from.

"Did she respond, Henry?" Regina queried, trying to keep her voice even.

"Yeah. She was really nice. Answered a question I asked about one of the songs. But, " Henry scratched his head, lost in thought for a second. "It was strange. Or maybe she seemed strange. I don't know."

"Strange how?"

"Like...maybe I freaked her out or something. She answered my question, but then told me to give you a message."

Regina's heart sank into her toes and chilly sweat began to prickle at the back of her neck.

"What did she say?"

"She said she's be off the grid for awhile and that she wouldn't have time for correspondence. It was...I felt kinda bad, like maybe I had bothered her by talking to her." Henry stared at his feet, his face screwed up into a frown of confusion.

Regina slammed back into herself and reached for Henry, pulling him close.

"You didn't bother her, sweetheart." She murmured into his messy hair, taking a moment to breathe him in as she mulled over what to say next. "How could you possibly bother her? She is just busy, that's all. You know she's on tour. She's probably exhausted and has to devote all of her energy to that."

"Ok," Henry whispered into her shirt, and then pulled away a bit. "But, mom?"

"Mm?"

"Why didn't you tell me you guys were friends? That's a pretty big deal."

"I'm sorry, Henry. I guess it just never came up."

She could feel the boy searching her eyes and cataloging her body language for any signs that she was keeping something from him. She waited his careful scrutiny out, an amused smile on her face.

"Ok." Seeming satisfied, Henry nodded. "She's really great, y'know. I hope she talks to me again sometime."

"I know. Me too. Now, your breakfast is waiting for you in the oven. You'd better eat and get dressed. You have 20 minutes before we need to leave for school."

Henry trotted off to do as he was asked and Regina drifted back to her desk and sank, boneless, into her chair. Was Emma angry? Frightened? A combination thereof? It was obvious that the woman needed space, but Regina wasn't sure why. Had it been Henry's e-mail or her own that had caused Emma's retreat? There was just something about Emma that brought Regina's feelingsPerhaps she shouldn't have said the intimate things she'd said or been so familiar with someone she barely knew, but she'd been unable to help blurting it all out.

If Henry was a bull in a china shop, Regina realized, it was only because Regina was an elephant in Tiffany's. The apple did not fall far from the tree.

Regina made a quick decision, opened her laptop and began what she hoped wouldn't turn out to be her last message to Emma.

* * *

7:32am

Mills, Regina

Subject: I'm Sorry

_Emma,_

_Henry gave me your message and I will respect your wish for silence, but wanted to first apologize. _

_Henry is concerned that his e-mail upset you. He's an astute child and noticed a strangeness in your tone. I forwarded what I thought was just the music, but neglected to erase your e-mail address from the header. I am so sorry. _

_I know I said that how we proceed is up to you, and it still is. I haven't told him anything; only that I didn't think he upset you, that you probably are just busy, as you said. I think he feels somewhat better, but I can tell he's still troubled. He is bothered, in particular, by the fact that I did not mention my friendship with you._

_I dislike keeping things from him, but it's for the best. If you decide not to be part of his life after all, I'd rather him never know how close he'd come to really getting to know you. _

_He adores you, Emma. __He's over the moon that you so much as spoke to him. _

_Also...I'm sorry if anything I said caused you concern. I do not tend to be as open with my feelings as I have been with you. Perhaps we were not on the same page after all. I realize I may have misinterpreted the way you looked at me, your choices in wording, etc. Please believe me when I say I did not intend to cause you discomfort. In fact, the opposite is true._

_Please take care. I do hope to hear from you again. _

_Regina _


	8. Straight Into Her Arms

Regina, folded up in an overstuffed chair she would never admit was her favourite, sat with her chin resting in her palm and her eyes directed out the window, but fixed on nothing at all. Dinner was baking in the oven and all work commitments were already taken care of for the day. Henry had chosen a soothing melody this evening, the notes winding through the house as comfortable as the scent of the apple rhubarb pie cooling on the kitchen counter. Despite all of these things, Regina felt a now familiar melancholy slipping in through the cracks in her facade. If she kept herself busy, it wouldn't catch up with her. It was in the quiet moments that it washed over her like a purple cloud bent on destroying everything in its path.

Two weeks. Two weeks since she had sent an e-mail that had left her impossibly exposed and received no response. One week since Henry had stopped wondering aloud whether Emma was still busy, whether Emma would ever write to him again. Two days since Regina had finally given up on the silly notion that perhaps Emma really was just busy.

The truth of the matter was that Emma had become part of their lives in a way Regina hadn't fully comprehended until it had already happened. They had met in person only twice, ten years between meetings, and exchanged a few e-mails. Despite this, Emma was as real and solid in Regina's mind as Henry was. The sound of her voice in song and speaking, the way her body melted into Regina's when she'd pulled her closer, the smell of her hair - honeysuckle and something undeniably just...Emma. The way she was able to insert her personality into an e-mail - Regina was almost able to hear her whispering and laughing and teasing as though she was in the room, eyes twinkling like stars.

Henry had been right. Regina adored Emma. But, Henry could not have imagined how accurate his statement would turn out to be, nor could Regina have predicted the sheer amount of longing she would feel if their connection was severed. An internal, silent longing with no rooms to fill.

The music from the other room stopped for a moment, and then two things happened: Henry began to play "Operation Peter Pan" and a ridiculously yellow bug parked on the opposite side of the street from the house. Regina squinted at the unfamiliar car for a few moments and then swiped wetness from her cheek, unsure of whether she was crying or if her eyes were bleeding because a supernova sun had parked itself within her view. She watched as the owner of the car fumbled around inside for awhile until the door opened and a figure unfolded itself from within its tiny clutches.

Emma Swan.

Hair glinting in the sun, Emma stood and regarded the house for a few moments before crossing the street. Startled, Regina shrank away from the window, all sweaty palms and nerves. Irritation prickled at the back of her mind, even as a warm ball of elation ignited in her belly and spread all the way to her fingertips. Emma Swan. Here. Why?

There came a knock at the door and Regina froze, caught between a wild urge to pretend she wasn't home and a desire to throw herself into the woman's arms and never let go. Shrugging both emotions off and schooling her expression into what felt like an unnatural smile, she padded to the door and opened it, her body language standoffish.

"Miss. Swan," Regina said, even though it hurt to speak so formally to the hopeful woman on her doorstep. "What are you doing here?"

Emma stood rooted to the spot for moment, her eyes raking over Regina's rigid form and then settling on her plastic smile. Regina raised an eyebrow and waved a hand to indicate that Emma should say something because knowing green eyes were making her feel transparent.

"You're angry." Emma said, looking down and chewing her lip. "I'm...could I come in, maybe?"

Regina moved wordlessly backward into the foyer to allow Emma to step inside. Emma brushed past just as silently, although she trailed her fingers along Regina's forearm in a gesture that probably meant 'thank you'. That knowledge didn't make Regina shiver any less.

"You didn't answer my question, Emma. Why are you here?" Regina tried to infuse harshness into her tone, but found that it was almost impossible to say 'Emma' without a certain amount of reverence. The woman in question, who had just placed her shoes neatly beside Regina's, stood up and smiled with such radiance that Regina took a step back.

"Thank goodness!"

"What on earth are you..." was all Regina managed before she was accosted by a happy golden retriever in the shape of a woman. Arms circled her body and squeezed tight, a cheek pressed against hers and then, just like that, it was over before Regina could get her wits about her long enough to squeeze back.

"You called me Emma. When I got here, I was 'Miss. Swan'," Emma did an accurate impression of Regina's haughty manner, but punctuated her own surname with air quotes. Regina couldn't help but chuckle, but tacked on an eye roll for good measure. "Thank you for not being as mad as I thought you would be, even though I totally deserve it."

"I'm not mad, Emma. I'm..."

"Hurt? Disappointed?"

"Yes. To both."

"If it helps at all, I both hurt and disappointed myself by running from all of this. That's why I am here. I want to make it all right, meet Henry, tell you both everything that has been swirling around in here." Emma placed a hand over her own heart. "If you'll have me, that is."

Regina glanced at Emma's shoes beside her own and felt something slide into place with an almost audible click.

"Stay for dinner?"

But, Emma wasn't listening to Regina anymore. She was standing transfixed, staring into the direction of the family room that housed the piano. It wasn't visible from the foyer, but Regina could swear Emma could see though the walls and straight to the sad little boy pouring his heart onto the piano keys.

"Is that?..."

"Yes. That's Henry."

"He's playing..."

"I know."

Emma turned toward Regina, wide eyes full of tears.

"I'm sorry. So, so sorry."

Regina took Emma's hand in hers and gently led her toward the kitchen.

"It's all right. You're here now." Regina disentangled her hand, cupped a warm, damp cheek and smiled. "You can set the table."


	9. Welcome To Storybrooke

Emma preoccupied herself with finding all of the items she would need to set the table. Regina's cupboards were organized and meticulous. Emma found them fascinating, just as she found everything about the other woman fascinating. For example, there were forks, knives and spoons in a small basket in the cupboard that housed the dinnerware to negate the need to dig around in a cutlery drawer.

"I put those there for Henry. When he was smaller, he needed a chair to reach the plates and bowls and would then have to jump down and move the chair to obtain the cutlery. He liked that it was all in one place, and I don't have the heart to change it back."

Emma nodded and began her search for water glasses.

"To your left, two cupboards over. Bottom shelf." Regina pulled something that smelled delicious out of the oven, peeled back the foil and sniffed at the mystery food with pleasure. "We use the tumblers, but feel free to choose whatever you'd like."

"Thanks." Emma grinned, liking the domestic feel of Regina's kitchen, or if she was being honest with herself, simply being with Regina. She chose three tumblers (avoiding an impressive collection of superhero glasses for the time being), stacked them on top of the plates and cutlery and headed toward what she thought might be the dining room.

"I'll be right in. Set our places places however you'd like. You're our...guest of honour." Regina turned and said with a wink that almost made Emma drop her precarious tower of fine china, pewter and crystal.

"Though here?"

"Yes. Light switch to your left."

Even with the light still out, Emma could tell that the table was made of a dark wood. Probably mahogany. It was huge and imposing, and Emma couldn't imagine how Henry and Regina didn't feel like they were shouting their dinner time conversations across a ballroom. She placed the dinnerware on the sideboard and just stood for a few moments in front of the table in the dim.

Then the light was flipped on and a warm hand at her back alerted her that she was no longer alone. She leaned into the touch a little, and sighed as fingers played along her side against her ribs before butterflying away.

"Would you prefer to eat at the kitchen island?" Regina said, her voice wonderfully close to Emma's ear. "I know it's a little much. I inherited it. To be honest, we never really eat in here, but I thought..."

"No-no. This is fine. I've never, um. I mean I haven't sat down at a real table with a family before. It will be nice. Just let me -" And with that, Emma began rearranging heavy chairs and crisp linen placemats, smiling when she had set three places so close together that the placemats were almost touching, one at the end of the table, and one on either side. "There. This ok?"

Regina stared at the table, then slowly turned toward Emma and just...looked. Emma looked back, sinking into the warmest, most liquid eyes she'd ever had the pleasure of swimming in. She stepped closer, ghosting knuckles against Regina's cheek and then cupping her jaw, craving contact she could deny herself so longer.

"Regina, I - I want to thank you." Regina scoffed and looked at her feet, but Emma tilted her face upward again, locking eyes once more. "No, please let me say this. Thank you for letting me be here even though I have no right to be after the way I treated you and Henry. For not asking any of the hard questions even though you are owed the answers. I can't express how grateful I am for your role in my life. For you. For -"

"Mom? What's for dinner? And why are you in the dining -"

A gangly, green-eyed young boy who looked a whole lot like Emma had at age 10 stood in the doorway, not yet comprehending the scene in front of him. Regina and Emma stepped apart, Emma shoving her hands in her pockets and Regina clearing her throat and looking anywhere but at the boy who stood blinking at them in amazement.

"Emma?" He whispered.

"Hi, kid." Emma said, voice wavering, and then her breath left her in a startled 'oof' as four and a half feet of boy barrelled into her. She wrapped her arms tight around him and dropped her face into his hair to breathe him in for the first time. She was not surprised to find out that he smelled a lot like what love-starved Emma thought home should smell like. Just like his mother. Chills raced up and down Emma's spine, but Regina stroked them away with a comforting hand, turning the chills into sparks, and Emma could have sworn she felt a blast of energy pulse out from between the three of them. "Whoa..."

Henry wiggled out of Emma's grasp and stared at her in that frank manner children had.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, and Emma knew that while Regina had been easy on her, Henry would not be.

"I'm just happy." Henry wasn't buying it. "And sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For not being here sooner."

Henry's face clouded over for a moment, but then he grinned so wide she could see all of his teeth.

"It's ok. You're here now."

"That's what your mom said when I tried to apologize to her." Emma chuckled.

"Then you'd better listen to us. We know what we're talking about." He turned to Regina. "Can...uh, oops..._shall_ we eat now?"

"Yes, my little prince." She said indulgently, trying to ruffle his hair as he dodged her hand. "Yes we _shall_."

"So, I fly into Bangor airport only to find out that the car rental agency had messed up my reservation. Not only that, but the only car they had left was a pink Mercedes. I didn't even know they MADE pink Mercedes." Emma laughed, caught up in her own story. "The guy at the counter must have read the dismay on my face, because he offered me his own car. That old yellow bug outside belongs to a man named Wilbur Williams. He doesn't know it yet, but he is getting a tip large enough to buy himself a new car. The poor thing stalled three times on the way here."

Emma was snuggled up on the couch with Henry and Regina under the guise of watching a bit of television before Henry had to go to bed. No one had even glanced at the television since it had been turned on, preferring to chat the evening away. They'd started out by each occupying a cushion, but territorial lines had relaxed and Emma now had Regina sitting almost in her armpit and Henry's feet in her lap.

"It's funny, actually. My first car was a yellow bug."

"Remember you're the one who can fill the world with sunshine." Came Regina's sarcastic voice, muffled by Emma's shoulder. Emma, surprised, barked with laughter.

"Hey! Don't make fun! Sunshine yellow is an awesome colour! I didn't really take you as a Snow White kind of girl."

"I'm not." Regina wrinkled her nose. "I always thought she was rather insipid."

"That probably means something important, don't you think?" Henry said, an epiphany written all over his raised eyebrows. "Like you're on the right path, or something? Miss. Blanchard always says that if people are supposed to be together, they will find a way. Maybe the yellow bug is a sign that you are exactly where you need to be."

"That old yellow bug and I had some times, for sure. It got me through some good and bad times."

Henry had been conceived in said bug, and Emma still couldn't figure out how there'd been enough space in the back seat. She sighed, caught up in memories for a moment.

"How did you find the house, Emma? I don't recall giving you the address." Regina's voice was soft, her eyes softer. Emma still kinda felt like a creeper though, and flashed Regina an embarrassed smile.

"I stopped at a place called Granny's and asked. People were more than willing to point me in the direction of things to see in town. Those things included the clock tower and the mayoral mansion, in that order. And, that was it. I could see the clock tower FROM Granny's. David and I had a good laugh about that."

"David?"

"Yeah. He insisted on coming with me. We had been stalking Storybrooke's website and he saw a picture of a woman who...I think she teaches at the elementary school. We've both taken rooms at the bed and breakfast and I think he plans to wander around town until he bumps into her." Emma rolled her eyes.

"The only school related picture we have on the website is of Mary Margaret Blanchard. She teaches Henry's 5th grade class. She's...dowdy, although I will admit she is sweet and would be quite attractive if she threw out her entire teacher sweater collection."

"Well, David thought she was hot! Didn't stop talking about her the whole way here." Emma looked over at Henry and couldn't help but smile at his expression. "You still make that face? You looked at me like that when I held you, right after you were born. You looked like an old..."

She'd blurted it before she could stop herself, and only realized what she had done when Henry's expression changed to one of confusion. She could feel Regina shifting beside her, felt a hand land on her shoulder.

"Wait. In the hospital? You met me in the hospital?" Henry's voice was harsh, almost angry.

"Yeah. I -" But, Emma didn't know what to say. She hadn't really thought ahead about how she was going to break the news to Henry. She wanted to get off the couch and away - run as far as her feet could carry her. Henry didn't need her in his life. Henry had everything he could ever need in Regina. What on earth was she even doing here? How could she have even thought...

Tears sprang to her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day and she buried her face in her hands in an attempt to collect herself.

"You're my birth mother, aren't you?"

Emma nodded into her hands, not daring to look at him, terrified of the disappointment she would see written all over his face.

"I think I knew that. I think I have always known that." Henry said, pulling Emma's hands away from her eyes. "It's ok, Emma."

Emma's heart broke into a million pieces and then knit itself back together as Henry launched himself into her arms, burying his face against her neck. When arms wrapped around them both from behind, Emma felt safe and content for the first time in her life.


End file.
